How often haft thou waited at my Cup,

Fed from my Trencher, kneel'd down at the Board,
When I have feafted with Queen Margaret?
Remember it, and let it make thee Creft-faln,
Ay, and allay this thy abortive Pride:
How in our voiding Lobby haft thou stood,
And duly waited for my coming forth?
This Hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
And therefore fhall it charm thy riotous Tongue.
Whit. Speak Captain, fhall I ftab the forlorn Swain?
Cap. Firft let my words ftab him, as he hath me.
Suf. Bafe Slave, thy words are blunt, and fo art thou.
Cap. Convey him hence, and on our Long-boat's fide,
Strike off his Head.

Suf. Thou dar'ft not for thy own.
Cap. Poole, Sir Poole? Lord?

Ay kennel-puddle...fink, whofe filth and dirt
Troubles the Silver Spring, where England drinks:
Now will I dam up this thy yawning Mouth,
For fwallowing up the Treafure of the Realm.
Thy Lips that kiss'd the Queen, fhall sweep the Ground
And thou that fmil'dft at good Duke Humphry's Death,
Against the fenfelefs Winds fhalt grin in vain,
Who in contempt fhall hils at thee again.
And wedded be thou to the Hags of Hell,
For daring to affie a mighty Lord
Unto the Daughter of a worthless King,
Having nor Subject, Wealth, nor Diadem:
By devilish policy art thou grown great,
And like ambitious Sylla over-gorg'd,
With gobbets of thy Mother's bleeding Heart.
By thee Anjou and Main were fold to France.
The falle revolting Normans, thorough thee,
Difdain to call us Lord, and Picardie

Hath flain their Governors, furpriz'd our Forts,
And fent the ragged Soldiers wounded home:
The Princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
Whofe dreadful Swords were never drawn in vain,
As hating thee. are rifing up in Arms.

And now the House of York thruft from the Crown,

By

By fhameful murther of a guiltless King,

And lofty proud incroaching Tyranny,

Burns with revenging Fire, whofe hopeful Colours
Advance a half-fac'd Sun, ftriving to shine;
Under the which is writ, Invitis nubibus.
The Commons here in Kent are up in Arms,
And to conclude, Reproach and Beggary
Is crept into the Palace of our King,
And all by thee; away, convey him hence.
Suf. O that I were a God, to fhoot forth Thunder
Upon these paltry, fervile, abject drudges:
Small Things make base Men proud. This Villain here,
Being Captain of a Pinnace, threatens more
Than Bargulus, the strong Illyrian Pyrate.
Drones fuck not Eagles Blood, but rob Bee-hives.
It is impoffible that I fhould die

By fuch a lowly Vaffal as thy felf.

Thy words move Rage, and not Remorse in me: go of Meffage from the Queen to France.

1 charge thee waft me fafely cross the Channel.
Cap. Walter

Whit. Come Suffolk, I muft waft thee to thy Death.
Suf. Gelidus timor occupat artus, it is thee I fear.

Whit. Thou fhalt have caufe to fear before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? Now will you stoop?

1 Gent. My gracious Lord intreat him; fpeak him faic. Suf. Suffolk's Imperial Tongue is ftern and rough; Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we fhould honour fuch as thefe With humble fuit; no, rather let my Head Stoop to the Block, than these Knees bow to any, Save to the God of Heav'n, and to my King; And fooner dance upon a bloody Pole, Thin ftand uncover'd to the vulgar Groom. True Nobility is exempt from fear: More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more; Come Soldiers, fhew what Cruelty ye can.

Suf. That this my Death may never be forgot. Great Men oft die by vile Bexonians.

A Roman Sworder, and Bandetto Slave
Murder'd sweet Tully. Brutus Bastard Hand
Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by Pirats.

[Exit Walter Whitmore with Suffolk. Cap. And as for thefe, whofe Ranfom we have fet, It is our pleasure one of them depart;

Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

[Ex. Captain and the reft. Manet the firft Gent. Enter Whitmore with the Body. Whit. There let his Head and liveless Body lye, Until the Queen his Mistress bury it.

[Exit Whitmore.

1 Gent. O barbarous and bloody Spectacle!
His Body will I bear unto the King:
If he revenge it not, yet will his Friends,
So will the Queen, that living held him dear.
Enter Bevis and John Holland.

[Exit.

Bevis. Come and get thee a Sword, though made of a Lath; they have been up these two Days.

Hol. They have the more need to fleep now then.

Bevis. I tell thee, Jack Cade the Clothier means to dress the Commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new Nap upon it.'

Hol. So he had need, 'tis thread-bare. Well, I fay, it was never a merry World in England, fince Gentlemen

came up.

Bevis. O miferable Age! Virtue is not regarded in Handy

crafts Men.

Hol. The Nobility think scorn to go in Leather Aprons. Bevis. Nay more, the King's Council are no good Work

men.

Hol. True, and yet it is faid, Labour in thy Vocation; which is as much as to fay, let the Magiftrates be labouring Men; and therefore thould we be Magistrates.

Bevis. Thou haft hit it; for there's no better fign of a brave Mind, than a hard Hand.

Hol. I fee them, I fee them; there's Beft's Son, the Tanner of Wing ham.

Bevis He fhall have the Skins of our Enemies, to make Dog's Leather of.

Hol. And Dick the Butcher.

Bevis.

Bevis. Then is Sin ftruck down like an Ox, and Iniqui

ties Throat cut like a Calf.

Hol, And Smith the Weaver.

Bevis. Argo, their thread of Life is fpun. Hol. Come, come. let's fall in with them. Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the Butcher, Smith the Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite Numbers.

Cade. We John Cade, foterm'd of our fuppofed Father-Dick. Or rather of ftealing a Cade of Herrings.

Cade. For our Enemies fhall fall before us, infpired with the Spirit of putting down Kings and Princes; Command Silence.

Dick. Silence.

Cade. My Father was a Mortimer

Dick. He was an honest Man, and a good Bricklayer. Cade. My Mother a Plantagenet

Dick. I knew her well, fhe was a Midwife,

Cade. My Wife defcended of the Lacies

Dick. She was indeed a Pedler's Daughter, and fold many Laces.

Weav. But now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd Pack, she washes Bucks here at home.

Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable Houfe.

Dick. Ay by my Faith the Field is honourable, and there was he born, under a Hedge; for his Father had never a House but the Cage.

Cade. Valiant I am.

Wear. A muft needs, for Beggary is valiant.

Cade. I am able to endure much.

Dick. No queftion of that; for I have seen him whipt three Market Days together.

Cade. I fear neither Sword nor Fire.

Wear. He need not fear the Sword, for his Coat is of proof.

Dick. But methinks he fhould ftand in fear of Fire, being burnt i'th' hand for ftealing of Sheep.

Cade. Be brave then, for your Captain is brave, and vows Reformation, There fhall be in England feven half penny Loaves fold for a penny; the three hoop'd Pot fhall have ten Hoops, and I will make it Felony to drink small Beer.

All

All the Realm fhall be in Common, and in Cheapfide fhail my Palfry go to Grafs; and when I am King, as King I will be

All. God fave your Majefty.

Cade I thank you, good People. There fhall be no Mony, all fhall eat and drink upon my Score, and I will apparel them all in one Livery, that they may agree like Brohers, and worship me their Lord.

Dick. The first thing we do, let's kill all the Lawyers. Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that the Skin of an Innocent Lamb fhould be made Parchment; that Parchment being fcribled o'er, fhould undo a Man. Some fay the Bee ftings, but I fay, 'tis Bees Wax; for I did but Seal once to a thing, and I was never my own Man fince. How now? Who is there?

Enter a Clerk.

Wear. The Clerk of Chatham; he can Write and Read, and caft Accompt.

Cade. O monstrous!

Wear. We took him fetting Boys Copies.

Cade. Here's a Villain.

Weav, H'as a Book in his Pocket with red Letters in't. Cade. Nay, then he is a Conjurer.

Dick. Nay, he can make Obligations, and write Court hand.

Cade. I am forry for't: The Man is a proper Man of mine Honour; unless I find him Gulty, he fhall not die. Come hither, Sirrah, I must examine thee: What is thy Name?

Clerk, Emanuel.

Dick. They use to write it on the top of Letters: 'Twill go hard with you.

Cade. Let me alone: Doft thou use to write thy Name? Or haft thou a Mark to thy felf, like an honest plain-dealing Man?

Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up, thay I can write my Name.

All. He hath confeft, away with him; he is a Villain and a Traitor.

Cade. Away with him, I fay: Hang him with his Pen